


Owner's Inscription

by DeanwillgodownwiththisShip



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanwillgodownwiththisShip/pseuds/DeanwillgodownwiththisShip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely based on the book 'The Ingredients of Love' by Nicolas Barreau but the story has plenty of my own ideas!</p>
<p>When Castiel Novak goes home one day to find out his boyfriend has left him for another man he is devastated. Walking through the streets of London, he stumbles across a small bookshop and is drawn one book in particular. After beginning to read, he is startled to discover that the book is about him, from his clothing to the little cafe he owns. </p>
<p>Curious about the mysterious, reclusive American author Jensen Ackles, Castiel starts his search for answers but is faced with a challenge: the Editor-in-Chief at the publishing company, Mr Dean Winchester seems strangely reluctant to provide answers. </p>
<p>Is Dean Winchester just oddly shy? Or is he hiding something from Castiel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Destiel fic so please be patient with me! Massive thanks must go to my lovely friend Kenna for listening to me panic and fail to come up with a title and just about everything else and for her encouragement along the way! This work has no Beta so all mistakes are my own and I apologize for them.
> 
> Disclaimer: The plot is loosely based on 'The Ingredients of Love' by Nicolas Barreau, these are his ideas and belong to him. The characters in the story belong to the writers and creator of Supernatural so sadly I don't own them either.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

In a small café located in an alley on the outskirts of central London, a young man stood; cursing the day he was born as he stood facing the man currently fuming in front of him.

“For Christ’s sake Castiel! What in God’s name am I supposed to do with this much Tuna?” the man growled.  Running a hand through his thick black hair, he let out a frustrated huff of air.

“How should I know, Crowley? You asked for Tuna for today’s menu so I brought you Tuna!” His voice was rising, only moments away from reaching what his best friend Anna dubbed ‘unstable catlady Cas.’ Whatever. It had been a stressful day and this argument was the final straw.  “I’ve done my part, do whatever you want with it. I’ve got more important things to do, like RUN THIS CAFÉ.” There it was, the voice. A not-so-friendly reminder that he needed to leave before he did something that would wind up with him getting handcuffed, and not in the good way.

Shooting one last glare at Crowley and the rest of the kitchen staff, who had long since abandoned their work to watch their argument, he turned and strode out of the café and began to make his way home.

 

Castiel Novak considered himself a kind and fair man, it was unusual for him to snap at his employees or lose his temper so quickly over something so trivial. In the past he would have rolled his eyes and made some comment about where Crowley could shove the rest of his tuna, but things were different now.

 

Castiel’s father had been his hero, his best friend and mentor all in one. After Castiel’s mother passed when he was a child, his father squared his shoulders and pushed through his grief to become the person Castiel could turn to with anything. It was exactly one month ago that Charles died from a heart attack, leaving Castiel with the second most important thing in his life- the café he poured his heart and soul into, named after Castiel’s mother Rosa, café L'amour de Rosa. 

 

As for Castiel, he was left broken and grieving for the man who gave him everything in life. The man who taught him how to bake not just plain food but art, who taught him to be the type of man who treats everyone as a friend and an equal because they may need someone to brighten their day and acknowledge their worth. And most importantly, he was the man who embraced his son and told him that he would never stop being proud of him and loving him, even when Castiel came to him one day shaking and sweating with nerves and told his father he was gay. Castiel lost his world the day Charles died.

 

So, Castiel thought; it was perfectly understandable for him to be touchy today.  His father was gone and Castiel was going to ruin the café and his father’s legacy. His day had been one problem after another; he missed his bus and had to walk in the rain to the café, then his produce supplier phoned to tell him he had gone out of business, so now they will have no fresh fruit or vegetables until they find a new one. Finally, there was Crowley and his damn fish. 

 

 

* * *

 

Reaching his front door, Castiel could feel himself relax. All he needed was some quiet time to unwind and let all the stress of the day leave him. Maybe some sex.  That always helped.

Thinking of sex made Castiel smile as he thought of his gorgeous boyfriend, Balthazar. They’d met one day when Castiel was dealing with a hangover from hell. Anna had taken him out the night before and gotten him absolutely trashed. He hadn’t been that drunk for a while, so clearly he needed to remind himself why he didn’t make it a habit.

He had been sitting on a park bench staring at his coffee like it could provide him with all the happiness in the world, which at the time was quite likely, when a shadow fell across the seat that he was sitting on. Squinting and cursing the harsh sunlight, he looked up to see who had come to disturb his valuable time with what he was currently referring to as the Elixir of the Gods.

He was met with clear blue eyes and a far too cocky smirk.  The man stuck out his hand, winked and said “Hello love, couldn’t help but notice from over there how simply gorgeous you are. I’m Balthazar, mind if I sit?”

Castiel, still not functioning on all cylinders just nodded dumbly back at him, he’d agreed to a date before he’d finished his coffee.

 

Placing his keys on the kitchen counter, Castiel shrugged off his coat and headed upstairs. A nice hot bath sounded like the perfect way to unwind. The apartment was quiet. Normally Balthazar would have been spread out in front of the TV or banging around doing God knows what upstairs, but Balthazar must have been out with some of his friends. Well, wherever he was, Castiel was going to make the most of the peace and quiet while he could.

 

The cool air woke Castiel in the tub where he must have drifted off, the stress of the day and the hot water lulling him to a much-needed sleep.  Rubbing his eyes he looked at his watch, six o’clock already! He must have slept for longer than he’d thought.  Frowning, he wondered why the apartment was still so silent.  Balthazar never seemed to mind waking him up with his noisy stomping, so why should today be any different? He had to have come home by now.

 

After checking his phone for any messages, Castiel made his way out of the tub, grabbing a towel on the way downstairs. The silence wasn’t so peaceful now. Instead, it was making him feel uneasy. There was no reason for Balthazar to not be home, and he hadn’t contacted Castiel to tell him he would be out late so _where was he?_

 

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Castiel’s gaze landed on a folded up note that was left on the kitchen table. He must have just missed it when he walked through earlier, too much on his mind at the time. Relief flooded though him as he scolded himself for jumping to conclusions and panicking. 

 

Reaching for the note, he unfolded it and began to read:

 

_Dear Cassie,_

_So sorry this had to happen, you’ve been such a good time these past months. However I’m afraid it cannot go on. You see, I’ve gone and fallen in love. I know, such bad timing but I know you’ll understand, you always were into all that true love nonsense._

_Take care of yourself Cassie,_

_Balthazar_

Castiel re-read the note three times before it begun to sink in, Balthazar was gone. Left him for another man. Never coming back. Castiel felt his knees start to buckle and grabbed the counter for support before sliding to the floor, hands clutching the note and tears rolling down his cheeks.  

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this so far! please bear with me, Dean will be introduced shortly I promise!  
> This work has no Beta so all mistakes are my own and I apologize for them.
> 
> Disclaimer: The plot is loosely based on 'The Ingredients of Love' by Nicolas Barreau, these are his ideas and belong to him. The characters in the story belong to the writers and creator of Supernatural so sadly I don't own them either.
> 
> Enjoy!

Waking up the following morning was uncomfortable; Castiel was curled up on the kitchen floor where he’d been since he saw the letter, his head was pounding, eyes were red and puffy and his throat felt raw from all the crying he had done last night.

 

   He felt hollow. He knew that Balthazar had left him, but somehow it didn’t feel true. He felt as though any minute Balthazar would breeze through the front door and laugh at the sight of Castiel sitting on the floor. He wouldn’t ask why he was there or why he his eyes were red from crying, that wasn’t their thing.  They would kiss quickly, almost out of habit rather than desire, he mused. They kept things light and easy, small conversations about their respective jobs, a comment or two about dinner and then they would go upstairs and fuck.  Balthazar wasn’t one for making love; he didn’t like the idea of falling so deeply in love with someone that they were constantly on your mind, you’d take a bullet for them and do anything to see them happy.

 

Castiel stood up, his brain suddenly deciding to start thinking clearly again. Balthazar wasn’t _gone._ The whole notion of Balthazar leaving him for his _true love_ was almost laughable! No. He’d walk upstairs and he’d find all of Balthazar’s clothes hanging up in the closet mixed in alongside his own just like they always were.

 

It was only after he’d been through the entire bedroom looking for any evidence that Balthazar had ever lived there and found absolutely nothing, that Castiel felt reality crashing down on him.  He couldn’t stay in the apartment a moment longer; he had to escape all the memories of Balthazar in every room that were threatening to crush him. 

 

 

* * *

 

Castiel wandered aimlessly around the streets of London, feeling as though he was looking for something yet not knowing what it was he was hoping, needing to find.  Sitting down on a nearby bench, Castiel pulled out his phone, finally ready to tell his best friend about Balthazar leaving him.

 

Anna picked up almost straight away, “Cas, darling.  Breakfast tomorrow? Cook for me? You know how much I adore your food!” She trilled, barely pausing for breath let alone long enough for Castiel to get a word in. “Anna” he murmured as soon as she stopped talking, his voice cracking slightly. His friend obviously noticed the tremor in his voice, as she stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue.  

“It’s Balthazar, he’s gone. Left me for someone else, called them his True Love” he huffed out a bitter, humourless laugh.

 

Whatever reaction he may have expected from Anna, this was certainly not it. “Good riddance! I thought that bloody arsehole was going to be around forever. Honestly Cas, you can do so much better than _him._ ” She gushed from over the phone.  Funnily enough her words weren’t doing much to improve his mood, he was heartbroken and all she could talk about was how he was better than Balthazar, obviously not since Balthazar was God knows where with God knows who and he was left here alone.

 

“For once could you think about someone other than yourself? I loved him and he left me, I’m miserable and I deserve to be able to wallow in self pity and have you support me and bring me cake and sad movies before you go all high and mighty on me and tell me how much you hated my boyfriend!” Castiel lowered his voice slightly when he noticed to looks he was beginning to attract, “when you can be my friend and not judge my apparently poor choice in men, then we can talk.” He imagined the stunned on Anna’s face once she realised he’d hung up on her; the mental imagine gave him a small burst of selfish pleasure. All he’d wanted was his best friend to offer him some sympathy, apparently that was too much to ask for.

 

 

His brief moment of happiness swiftly turned to annoyance as he felt the first droplets of rain start to come down around him. Of course he didn’t think to bring an umbrella with him. “Shit!” he cursed under his breath as the small droplets began to get larger and fall more rapidly.

 

He ducked into the first shop that he came across, hoping that the rain would pass quickly so he could get back to his apartment and watch Love Actually and eat ice cream, it was a break up tradition of his thank you very much and it never failed to give him some perspective on his own problems.

 

He looked up and saw books. Everywhere. Floor to ceiling stacked high, every inch of the room covered in books or all kinds. It was the real kind of bookstore filled with pre-loved books that told stories of their previous owners as well as the stories told within. Castiel loved those types of stores, opened because of a love of reading and the joy it gave to others rather than the money that could be made.

“Rough day, son?” a gruff voice interrupted his thoughts. Castiel looked up and gave a small smile at the man, whose eyes sparkled with years of the laughter and mischief of youth, though age the lines marking his kind face told the story of a life well lived.  Castiel shrugged, “bad week I suppose.”

  The man’s kind eyes looked over him, clearly wondering what had happened to make him look so broken. “Looking for anything in particular? Or just something to lose yourself in for a few hours?” He asked, a knowing smile appearing on his face when Castiel’s head lifted at the mention of losing himself.

 

The man pointed to a small table of stacked books, Castiel smiled gratefully up at the man “thank you, Sir.”

The man snorted, “Call me Bobby, son. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

 

After looking at a few books on the table, Castiel’s gaze landed on one in particular.  _In His Eyes_ by Jensen Ackles. It was the illustration on the cover that grabbed his attention, a petite café that looked eerily similar to his café L'amour de Rosa.  Opening the book to the first page, Castiel read the author’s inscription:

 

To him. The one who reminded me how to feel.

 

It was nice, Castiel supposed. Another dedication of love in the beginning of a book, nothing unusual and frankly, slightly predictable. Yet something made him pick up the book and purchase it.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel placed the book on the table beside him, he hadn’t even realised how much time had gone by since he’d started reading.  Once he’d started reading he couldn’t stop, the tale of the eager young American businessman Jared, trying to make it to the top of the company branch in London, consequently losing himself in the process. It was a compelling story, the man stepping on whomever he needed to in order to climb to the top, following in his father’s footsteps and abandoning emotion because it was weakness. That was until Jared met _him._  

 

And that was were things got weird for Castiel. The man that Jared met in the story, worked in a café. Castiel’s café. It was identical to café L'amour de Rosa in every detail, down to the table clothes printed with the pictures of one of his mother’s old paintings.

 

And what was even stranger, the man in the story was Castiel. He knew it. It wasn’t just a man with blue eyes and black hair. It was him, he was positive.  Really, just how common was a tan trench coat with a white dress shirt and blue tie anyway?

 

Who was this Jensen Ackles? And what had Castiel done to inspire this man to write an entire book about him and his café?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has continued to read this!   
> This work has no Beta so all mistakes are my own and I apologize for them.
> 
> Disclaimer: The plot is loosely based on 'The Ingredients of Love' by Nicolas Barreau, these are his ideas and belong to him. The characters in the story belong to the writers and creator of Supernatural so sadly I don't own them either.
> 
> Enjoy!

Staring down at the blank page in front of him, Dean tried not to succumb to the sleep that was threatening to overtake him. He could hear the owner of the publishing company, Ellen, and her daughter Jo, who was a junior editor at the company, discussing the latest manuscript that had landed on their desks. He’d read it and to be honest, it was shit. Some overdone story about love at first sight, of course Jo thought it was _heartfelt._  Personally Dean thought it was a load of crap, but Jo had her heart set on getting it published. He could allow her this small pleasure he supposed.

 

Starting to doodle stick figures in crude positions, he snickered quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself. He was so not in the mood for work, spending all night reading through the crappy novel already had him in a terrible mood. They were so adamant about making it the next ‘Twilight’. He’d thought those books were shit too, so it was easy to understand why he was so unenthused by the whole meeting.

 

“…Jensen Ackles.” Dean’s head snapped up. He hadn’t even noticed the conversation changing from boring romance novels to the American author of _In His Eyes,_ a recent bestseller in London. “Wait a sec, what about Jensen Ackles?” He interrupted them, trying to keep his voice sounding as disinterested as possible.

 

“It’s simple” Ellen spoke up, determination set in her features. “We need him to talk to the press. We have representatives from major magazines knocking down our door for a chance to have the first interview with the mysterious recluse who produced such a beautiful story out of the blue.” When Ellen set her sights on something it was damn near impossible to talk her out of it.

 

Dean tried to appease by suggesting a compromise, “look, how about the magazines write up a set of questions and we mail it them to Ackles. He can reply to them and send them back. That way, the press gets what they want and Ackles doesn’t have to make public appearances. Everyone wins.” Satisfied with his alternative solution, Dean crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

 

“You don’t understand, Dean.” Ellen looked at him pointedly “and you of all people _should_ understand better than anyone else.” She sighed, obviously realising he didn’t see what she was getting at. “This man comes out of nowhere and writes this incredibly raw and honest love story, about a _man._ Those stories are rare, and hardly popular. But there is something about this one man’s story that has everybody desperate to know the kind of love he felt. They don’t care that it is a love between two men because the story that is being told goes beyond that.”

 

She looked Dean straight in the eye; “you’re the only one of us who has talked to him before. You can get him to talk. Please Dean, we need you to bring him to London.”

The looks she gave him were so pleading he could feel himself beginning to cave.  “Alright, fine. I’ll try and get in touch with Ackles and see what I can do.” he replied, shaking his head in amazement.  It was unbelievable, the things these women could convince him to do.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Fuck!” Dean swore, bringing his fist down on his desk. He was utterly screwed now, he needed to think of something quickly or else he could kiss his job goodbye right now. He picked up his phone, pressing #1 on his speed dial and waited.  “C’mon Sammy” he growled at the phone when it continued to ring without being answered. 

 

Voicemail. “Godammit Sam, you’re always checking your stupid phone, but today when I need you to pick up, you aren’t there! Call me back Sam it’s important.” Logging onto his computer, Dean sent his brother an email just in case he was at his computer at that fancy law firm he worked at in LA.

 

His office phone rang and Dean snatched it up before it had even rung a second time “Sammy! Thank God man, we got a problem. _Jensen Ackles_ is supposed to come to London.”

“Er, sorry I don’t think I’m who you were expecting. But that is wonderful news.” A deep gravely voice that certainly did not belong to his little brother, spoke. “I’m calling to speak to Dean Winchester, would you be able to put me through to him please?”

 

Dean cleared his throat, “you’re talking to him, how can I help you, Sir?” The voice on the other end of the phone snorted loudly, “Please, call me Castiel. Sir makes me feel like I should be in retirement.” Dean felt his lips twitch unbidden to form a tiny smile.  “Anyway, I was calling to check that you received my letter to be sent to Mr Jensen Ackles. It’s really rather important that it reaches him. You see his novel was quite personal for me and I would love to talk to him about it.”

 

Dean scanned his desk quickly, looking for any envelopes addressed to Jensen Ackles. None.  “Yes, I have it right here with me. I’ll send it off this afternoon to Mr Ackles. He’s a very busy man so please don’t be disheartened if no reply comes in the mail. He receives bucket loads of fanmail every day and he doesn’t have time to reply to them all. He appreciates that you all take the time to write to him and makes sure he reads all of your letters.” Dean rattled out the same bullshit speech he’d given to a countless number of obsessed fans during his time as an editor.

 

“No, you don’t understand Mr Winchester.” The voice was insistent now “I need to talk to him, it’s a matter of urgency.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “I’m sure it is. I’ll post the letter tonight. Now if you’ll excuse me I have work to do. Thank you for calling.” He huffed in annoyance and slammed down on the desk.  He had much bigger things to deal with right now than another guy who swore he felt _a connection_ to the author and his book.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Night Jo.” Dean poked his head into her office on his way out.  He was just about to step into the elevator when he collided with a tall, firm body. “Oh Pardon me, Sir” the deep gravelly voice he’d already heard once that day, apologized “that was my mistake, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Dean looked up and was met with memorable bright blue eyes and thick black hair that made the man look like he’d just rolled out of bed after a particularly fun night between the sheets.

 

 

Dean was rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away from the face of the man standing before him. “Are you able to tell me where I might find Mr Dean Winchester?” The man inquired, a friendly smile lighting up his whole face.

 

That smile. So familiar, filling Dean with a warmth that spread throughout his entire body. A warmth he’d only felt once before. A spark of recognition lit and  prompted him to tear his gaze away from the man’s face and take in his appearance in full from head to toe.  

 

You see, all stories have to come from somewhere; something the author has seen or experienced that has inspired them to tell a tale. And Dean’s inspiration? Well, he was standing in front of him in all his trenchcoated glory.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this so far! please bear with me, Dean will be introduced shortly I promise!  
> This work has no Beta so all mistakes are my own and I apologize for them.
> 
> Disclaimer: The plot is loosely based on 'The Ingredients of Love' by Nicolas Barreau, these are his ideas and belong to him. The characters in the story belong to the writers and creator of Supernatural so sadly I don't own them either.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :)

 

* * *

Dean’s mind seemed to be stuck on a loop of  _Castiel_ since their unexpected meeting that afternoon _._ The way his tie was on backwards, his voice, deep and gravelly as he spoke to Dean. His hands, dear God his  _hands._ Dean could think of a million things those long elegant fingers would be good for. His smile; shy, but honest and real, matched by the warmth glittering in his wide blue eyes.

 

Dean would never have imagined that the man responsible for the aggravating phone call was the same sweet man that had wormed his way into his mind, refusing to leave him alone until he put pen to paper.

 

Their conversation that afternoon had been far more pleasant than the previous phone call, Dean found himself oddly charmed by Castiel’s shy demeanour and surprised that such a deep voice could come from such an adorable looking man.

 

Castiel had asked him more about Jensen Ackles and Dean had begun to panic, he couldn’t tell anyone about Jensen Ackles, especially not this man. Everything would fall apart if anyone knew his secret. But Castiel was stubborn; Dean could tell this just by looking at him, well that and the fact that he’d sent a letter then called to see if it had been received. And after all that, he had turned up in person to see for himself. So yeah, the guy wasn’t going to leave with no answers.

 

So, it was up to Dean to give him some.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Well you see,” he’d begun “Since his wife left him, Jensen Ackles has become somewhat of a recluse. His only company being his little dog, Paul.” Dean finished, nodding with what he hoped was an expression of sympathy and concern on his face.

 

“How terrible” Castiel remarked sadly, with a small frown.

 

“Yes, it’s quite terrible really.” Dean sighed “He was always rather strange, but now… “ He trailed off. “Anyway we are trying to arrange for him to come to London, but sadly I don’t think it’s very likely.” He tried to look disappointed about the news for Castiel’s benefit.

“Strange,” the other man remarked, “his novel was so optimistic and light. I’d never have even suspected he led such a troubled life.”

 

 

Dean snorted, how he had managed to come up with that bullshit story was beyond him. Between Castiel  _staring_ at him with his deep blue eyes and head tilted slightly to the side, and his panic about being asked to provide answers about Jensen Ackles, Dean was running on limited brain cells. Especially after Castiel gave him a small smile; plump, red lips curving up at him and sending all his remaining blood supply directly south. 

 

Hopefully Castiel was satisfied now and had given up any hope of seeing Jensen Ackles. As much as Dean would like nothing more than to see the other man again, it wasn’t possible. As long as he was around, Castiel would continue to ask questions and that the last thing Dean needed.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“His wife left him, apparently. Now he barely leaves the house and only talks to his dog” Castiel relayed Dean’s information to a bewildered Anna. He’d long since forgiven her for her slightly insensitive outburst after Balthazar left. It was hard to stay angry at Anna, and now he had far more interesting things to worry about and he needed to talk to someone about it all.

 

“So this Winchester guy, he wouldn’t tell you anymore than that?” She narrowed her eyes, “I mean isn’t that a bit odd? He was the editor; he would have had the most contact with Jensen Ackles. Surely he knew  _something_ else.”

Castiel sighed; he’d thought the same thing himself. “I know, I’m sure there’s something he’s not telling me. He seemed almost nervous when I started asking questions.” Castiel had been going over their meeting in his head since he’d gotten home and he was still no closer to any answers than he was before.

 

“Did you Google him then?” Anna asked.

“Google who? Dean?” he said, puzzled. Anna rolled her eyes at him.

“No, Ackles, you idiot.  He’s the author of a bestselling novel, there’s got to be some information on the Internet. You can find anything on there these days.”

 

He watched her type in the name on Google.  Almost 70,000 results came up after she pressed ‘search.’ From what he could see, most of them were about some American actor by the same name. “Try adding ‘author’ to the end” he suggested.

There were significantly less results though most of them just fans speculating on the actor and whether or not he had plans to write a book.

 

“What was the name of his book again?” Anna asked.

“In His Eyes” Castiel replied.  All that came up were a few sites to buy the book and the publishing company website.

“I thought you could find anything on the Internet?” Castiel repeated Anna’s earlier words, he had felt a small flutter of hope in his chest when she had suggested the idea, like maybe he would be one step closer to finding some answers.  But there was nothing, it was like the man didn’t even exist.

 

Except that he did, he’d written a book to prove it. A book set in London, with his café and Castiel himself featured heavily throughout it. Castiel  _had_ to know who he was because for a recluse living in LA, he sure knew a great deal about London and Castiel’s café. He’d like to see Dean Winchester try and explain  _that_ to him.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Halfway through an old Clint Eastwood movie he was only half watching, Dean’s phone rang. Looking at the display, he saw it was his brother.  _Finally,_ he thought.  “Sammy, dammit why didn’t you answer me earlier?” He just about growled into the phone.

“Hey Dean, what’s got your panties in a bunch today?” Was his reply.

“Wow Sam, you have no idea how NOT in the mood I am for your lame jokes. We got a serious problem, which by the way happens to be all your fault.”

 

He’d been on the phone with Sam one night after Sam had called to tell him he was going to propose to his girlfriend, Jess. He had been so proud of his little brother, living the high life in LA and marrying a smoking hot girl. What? He was gay, not blind. Jeez.

 

They’d ended up talking about the café Dean had been at that morning, he’d decided it was one of the best in London, especially post-hangover. That conversation led to him talking about the man he’d seen. He’d been dressed like a Tax Accountant but it appeared that he ran the café, he’d greeted all the staff before disappearing into the kitchen. A short while later he had returned and was greeting customers with a warm smile, having conversations with some of the more regular patrons.  

 

Then he’d turned and made eye contact with Dean. He’d felt the breath he hadn’t known he was holding leave him and he sat, eyes glued to the man standing across the room. His mind had flooded with images of that man and himself in the park feeding the ducks, out for dinner, riding on the Ferris wheel at a carnival, kissing in the pouring rain. All these images flashing before him as though he was watching a movie.

 

He hadn’t told Sam all this, of course. He’d just said that he saw the other man and his hands were itching to pick up a pen and write.  “Well you should” his brother had said simply “write it all down, every last detail.”

He’d scoffed, “yeah right, Sam. I’m an editor. I read the stuff, not write it. I could never do that. Besides you’re the one with all the brains of the family.”

His brother had laughed but continued to encourage the idea. “Just think about it, Dean.  I’m sure you’d be a great writer; you’ve read enough to know what to do. I think you should give it a shot. Besides, no one else needs to know.”

 

With those words ringing in his ears the rest of the night, Dean sat down at his laptop and began to write. If he’d had known that all this would  happen, he never would have taken his brother’s advice.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thanks for reading so far. Sorry it has been a few days since there has been anything new posted but Uni has just started back up again and I've been trying to find a good time to write. I'll aim to update once or twice a week if possible.   
> This work has no Beta so all mistakes are my own and I apologize for them.
> 
> Disclaimer: The plot is loosely based on 'The Ingredients of Love' by Nicolas Barreau, these are his ideas and belong to him. The characters in the story belong to the writers and creator of Supernatural so sadly I don't own them either.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

Castiel sat on his lounge, staring at the book in his hands. He hadn’t really paid attention to the author’s information at the back of the book, too interested in the story itself and the similarities to his own life. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t even thought to look at the back pages and see what the author looked like, in case he’d seen him around at the café some time.

 

Anna had picked up the book after their failed attempt at tracking down Jensen Ackles on the internet, the sound of her appreciative gasp made Castiel turn to see what she was looking at. 

 

“Cassy, he’s _cute”_  Anna let out a little squeal, holding the book up to show him.

On the page, a man with golden brown, shaggy hair that was far longer than his own, was smiling up at him. He had a broad grin, bordering on mischievous and Castiel couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face the longer he looked at the man.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I suppose, he is rather attractive.” Castiel said at last, finally tearing his gaze away from the man on paper.

“Oh please Cas,” Anna rolled her eyes at him. “I can see you practically drooling from over here.”

 

Castiel could feel his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red with embarrassment.  He couldn’t deny that she was right; he had been shamelessly staring at the man for almost five minutes.  Anna had left shortly after, singing an obnoxious song about him in a tree and how it somehow led to children. He was baffled, but this was often the case around Anna, he didn’t see how his meeting Jensen Ackles would lead to them both sitting in a tree. The idea was preposterous, he’d have to ask her about that next time they spoke.

 

So now; Castiel sat with the book in his hands, staring once again at the man who managed to change his entire life in a few hundred pages.

 

 

This Jensen Ackles didn’t appear to be anything like the man he was described to be by Dean Winchester, his wide, open smile and warm eyes showed no pain or loss and he hardly seemed like he would hide from other people’s company. Something wasn’t right with the whole situation, he couldn’t put his finger on it just yet, but he was going to figure it out. With or without Dean’s help.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Dean’s problems were reaching an all time high. His conversation with his brother had done nothing to ease his nerves; in fact it had done quite the opposite. He was now feeling even more stressed after his brother decided to let him in on some vital information during their phone call.  If he didn’t love the kid so much, he would have killed him by now.

 

Dean had been telling Sam about the plans for Jensen Ackles when his brother gave a nervous laugh. Instantly, Dean was suspicious, “alright Sammy, spill.”

His brother was silent for a moment before beginning to speak. “Well you know the picture I sent you, for you to use on the back of the book as the author’s picture?”

 

Of course Dean remembered, it was all he could think about recently. The picture had been of Sam’s boyfriend, Gabriel. They were going to use a photo of Sam but thought it was too risky in case he came to visit Dean and was recognised. Of course, neither of them knew how popular the novel would get.

 

“Well, you see Dean, Gabriel maybe doesn’t… he isn’t aware… Ok I didn’t tell him about the book.” Sam let out in a rush of jumbled words.

 

“Sam, please tell me you’re screwing with me right now.” Dean growled into the phone.

“Trust me Dean, I wish I was.” Sam’s voice came out a little higher than normal, a sure sign he was nervous.  “But... but you _told_ me that he’d laughed when you’d mentioned it. You told me he said he looked strikingly handsome in the photo.”  Dean stuttered in disbelief.

 

“Well, to be fair. Those were my words, I said them… and… well he didn’t.” Dean could hear the misery in his younger brothers voice, he hated it when they fought.

 

Letting out a deep sigh of frustration and trying to calm his anger. “Right, ok. Well see the problem is, we need Jensen Ackles to tour. And people are expecting to see Gabriel’s face so I was hoping that maybe Gabriel would at least know _something_ about the book.” He was finding it hard to keep his voice steady and not snap at his brother.

 

“Look, Dean everything will work out. I promise.” Sam sounded more sure now. “Gabriel owes me, so I’ll tell him about it tonight and we’ll work it out. He’s a good guy, Dean. He’ll play along.”

 

“He’d better. We need him to tour at the beginning of December.” Dean replied, after managing to form words again.

 

“Oh! We have a few weeks, that’s excellent!” The relief in Sam’s voice was clear through the phone “I’ll talk to you during the week. _Don’t worry!”_  With those parting words of freaking wisdom, Sam was gone.

 

“Fuck.” Dean swore. That pretty much summed everything up for him right then.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Dean sat back in his chair, the letter Castiel had written to Jensen Ackles on the table in front of him. He hadn’t wanted to read it but in the end he could only hold out for so long. After days of not hearing back from his brother, he was feeling pretty stressed out and the desire to know what Castiel had thought of his novel won out and he found himself eagerly tearing open the letter and beginning to read.

 

It seemed Castiel had figured out the similarities between him and the character in the novel, which wasn’t hard. It’s not like Dean tried to make the characters different, he’d just never thought anyone, and especially not the man it was written about would find it.

 

Castiel wrote with such awe about the way Jensen Ackles crafted his story and its characters, and the details he’d included about the café. It was easy to see that Castiel clearly admired the man and wanted to know him, every detail of his life and what makes him tick.

 

Ordinarily, that would be fine. People feel that way about many people they admire, and most of them never get the chance to know them. But the problem was, he wanted to know Castiel.  Just as Castiel wanted to know everything about Jensen, _Dean_ wanted to know Castiel.

 

So the question remained, how was he supposed to go about winning the heart of a man who believed fate had brought him to another man?  More importantly, a man who didn’t even exist.

 

Dean would have found the entire situation amusing, had he been watching it on TV or in a Romantic Comedy movie. But playing the lead character in real life, well that was significantly less amusing.

 

Perhaps Castiel would cease his search for answers if he received a reply from Jensen Ackles. The man was supposedly from LA after all, maybe he could have seem a similar looking man in a small café and Castiel could be convinced that he was grasping at straws and seeing similarities where there were none.

 

The idea sounded more and more appealing, the longer Dean thought about it. Castiel would be happy, he’d have his questions answered and he would move on with his life. And Dean, well he would have one less thing to worry about and could focus on getting Gabriel up to speed with the novel, if Gabriel even agreed to pretend to be someone else. It was a lot to as of someone.

 

He’d decided, he’d write a letter to Castiel and end his search. Surely the man would stop snooping around after the author himself told him it had nothing to do with him.

 

Grabbing some paper and a pen, he began to write.

 

_Castiel,_

_It was lovely to receive your letter, always nice to hear from fans. Thank you for taking the time to read my novel. Sadly I don’t have much to say to you about your suspicions that you were a character in the novel, you see unless you live in Los Angeles, I would never have seen you before. I greatly dislike travelling and therefore spend most of my time here. The characters and places I described in my book were very loosely based on places and people I have seen in Los Angeles._

_Thank you for reading,_

_Jensen Ackles_

Reading the letter over again, Dean was satisfied. It was straight to the point and left no doubt that it could not have been about Castiel. It sounded precise and almost rehearsed, as if he had received hundreds of letters from fans, all of them convinced they were the inspiration for the book.

 

He hoped it would put an end to Castiel’s digging before he found anything he wasn’t supposed to.

He sealed the envelope and wrote Jensen Ackles’ address on the back. He’d mail it in the morning and in a few days, this mess would be over. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for all those lovely people reading this fic! I hope you continue to read and enjoy!   
> This work has no Beta so all mistakes are my own and I apologize for them.
> 
> Disclaimer: The plot is loosely based on 'The Ingredients of Love' by Nicolas Barreau, these are his ideas and belong to him. The characters in the story belong to the writers and creator of Supernatural so sadly I don't own them either.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

“Now, Cas come on. You cannot possibly think that movie was interesting!” Anna protested loudly, talking over the top of the noisy buzz of the restaurant. “It was just a group of silly girls giggling and curtsying at men who treated them like possessions!” She was almost shouting now.

 

“Anna” Castiel admonished her, his cheeks turning red at the attention she had drawn to them. “I happen to thoroughly enjoy Jane Austen. Her stories are classics.”

 

Anna snorted “yeah, right. It had nothing to do with Colin Firth being in the movie.” Castiel felt his cheeks heating up once more.

 

“Cas, you have such strange obsessions. But speaking of obsessions, aren’t you glad you can stop wondering about that silly man and his book? You get so focussed on things and in the end you just get hurt.”

 

Castiel could barely stand to look at the pity in her eyes.

 

“I mean” she continued “You were already half in love with this Ackles guy but you just came out of a bad relationship and you were willing to jump right in to another with a guy you don’t even know!” Her voice softened, “I’m just worried about you, I hate seeing you hurting.”

 

 

He knew that, Anna was his best friend and she was always looking out for him. He had been moping around his apartment and in the café for a week since receiving the letter from Jensen Ackles, which basically called him a crazy, delusional fan.

 

Finally Anna had tired of his moping. She’d barged into his apartment and pushed him into the shower, demanding he clean up and put on some fresh clothes because she was forcing back out into the real world.  He was left with no choice but to obey, his friend could be terrifying when she wanted to be.

 

So here they were, in a crowded restaurant discussing his love of Austen (read: Colin Firth).

He was about to explain some of Colin’s most interesting features, when Anna’s eyes grew wide and she started to fidget. “What is it?” He asked, turning to look at what she was staring at.

 

“NO!” She practically shouted at him, grabbing onto his wrist “don’t look. It’s nothing, please just don’t look.” She pleaded.

 

He turned back to look. “Come on, what could possibly be so bad that… oh.” At the front door stood Balthazar, arm around a tall dark haired man. They were holding hands and Castiel spied two matching bands on their fingers.

 

Married.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Shh… It’s alright Cas, let it out. I’m here.” Anna murmured, stroking his hair.

 

He cried the entire cab ride home.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Things were back in motion; Sam had called and confirmed that Gabriel had agreed to act as Jensen Ackles for a short trip to London. There was just one tiny problem.

 

“He’s on board, Dean! He’ll be in London next Monday.” Sam sounded incredibly pleased with himself.

 

“Monday?? Shit Sammy, how the hell are we going to get him up to speed with everything in a week? What were you thinking?” Dean had gone from drowning in relief, to full on anxiety within twenty seconds.

 

“Gee, Dean, you’re welcome.  This hasn’t been difficult for me to organise at all, I just love having to save your ass.” Sam huffed. “Work it out, I got you what you wanted.” With that, Sam hung up.

 

 

So yeah, Dean could totally educate Gabriel on Jensen Ackles’ entire life history as well as his book. Easy. Sleep was for the weak anyway.

 

Of course he was now the star of the office, people applauding the man who managed to coax the recluse out of hiding and in such a short time. He was everyone’s new hero. 

 

Hooray for him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dean was walking out of the coffee shop on his lunch break, his mind completely elsewhere when he collided with a solid body.  “Shit, sorry man. You almost ended up with coffee all over you!” He looked up “Cas? I mean…sorry Castiel?”

 

“Oh. Hello Dean.”

 

The man looked terrible, he appeared to have not shaved in days and his eyes were red rimmed with black circles under them from lack of sleep.

 

_Did I do this?_

 

It was all Dean could think about when he saw the pitiful looking man in front of him. Had _he_ been the one to make him look this way? Was it his letter as Jensen Ackles that had the man looking so dejected?

 

“Hey, man. Are you ok?” He asked tentatively.

 

“It seems you were wrong” Castiel smiled, though to Dean it looked more like a grimace. Nothing like the beautiful smile he’d seen before.

 

“Jensen Ackles did reply to my letter, he thinks I’m nuts.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “Maybe I am.” He paused. “Nuts, I mean. It sure would explain why no one cares to know me or stick around once they know me.”

 

Dean felt his heart breaking the longer he looked at the man and heard the self-loathing in his voice.  Where had the beautiful, kind man he’d glimpsed the few times they’d met? The one who had held Dean’s attention and captured his heart.

 

Later, he wouldn’t know why he said what he did. He just knew right then and there that he had to do something. He’d caused this mess and now he had to fix it.

 

Ok, so mostly he just wanted to see Castiel smile again.  He was selfish, whatever. At least he admitted it.

 

“That… that’s actually something I was going to contact you about.” He blurted out. “I received an email from Jensen Ackles earlier this morning. He was most upset, it appears he had replied to the wrong fan letter and thought it belonged to you. He wrote your name on the letter but it was not meant for you.” Dean tried to sound as convincing as possible. “He was quite distraught, you see he found your letter fascinating and wishes to speak to you again. He only discovered his mistake this morning and was so worried that he had hurt your feelings beyond repair.”

 

Seeing the hint of a smile beginning to reach Castiel’s eyes, he continued. “He’s coming to London on Sunday and wishes to have dinner with me. He asked me specifically to invite you along. He’s most interested in meeting you.”

 

Ok, he could handle this. He’d play along and make a booking for three. Dean would arrive early and Castiel would join him at the table. They’d wait for half an hour and when Jensen Ackles didn’t arrive, Dean would suggest ordering anyway, why waste a perfectly good meal?

 

Castiel would be disappointed at first, but Dean’s charm and humour would win him over by the end of the night. Dean would sweep him off his feet, and Jensen Ackles would be the furthest thing from Castiel’s mind.

 

Simple.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Castiel was a nervous wreck, he’d tried on three different shirts only to decide that he hated them all and picked out another three. Finally, he was making his way into the restaurant and being led over to the table where he could see Dean sitting.

 

“Castiel, lovely to see you. Excited?” Dean asked him, smiling warmly.

 

“To be honest, I’m rather nervous” he admitted. He had been wrong about Dean, he thought he was rude but perhaps he had just been stressed the first time they’d spoken.

 

He sat and took a sip of champagne that ought to help with the nerves, he supposed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So anyway, I watched my poor little brother trip and splash face first into the swimming pool, all in front of his high school crush!” Dean waved his arms around excitedly and Castiel found himself laughing at the other man’s antics.

 

Dean’s phone buzzed; “Oh it’s Jensen, he’s running a bit late but he’ll be here soon” Dean smiled.

 

Castiel looked at his watch, it was almost eight O’clock! He’d been talking to Dean for over an hour and he hadn’t even noticed, to be honest he’d forgotten he was there for Jensen Ackles at all.

 

While they waited, Castiel and Dean talked about everything; from family to work and everything in between. Castiel found himself enjoying the other man’s company.

 

“I’m so hungry I could eat several small children” Dean admitted after his stomach let out a loud growl. “Do you mind if we order?” He asked.

 

Castiel looked at his watch, half past eight. He noticed he too was hungry, he hadn’t eaten all day he was so nervous. He nodded and Dean flagged down a waiter.

 

They talked some more over dinner and another bottle of wine, and when Dean’s phone rang at nine thirty and Jensen Ackles cancelled on them, Castiel was startled to discover he didn’t mind as much as he’d thought he would. It was too late to leave now anyway, he’d eaten and it would be rude to leave Dean all alone after he was kind enough to pay for the dinner.

 

Dean looked at him, eyes full of sympathy “you aren’t going to leave are you?” He asked “I’ve ordered desert. Surely you wouldn’t leave me alone to eat such a huge slice of pie”

 

Castiel shook off the residing disappointment. He’d been so excited about tonight. Sure, it hadn’t been so terrible with Dean but really that wasn’t the point. He’d dressed in five different outfits before choosing the best and it was all for nothing.

 

“Of course not, none of this was your fault Dean. I’d love to stay” He found he meant the words more than he thought he would.

 

“I may not be the great Jensen Ackles, but I can promise you I will do my best to get a smile out of you by the end of the evening” Dean winked at him.

 

“Tell me Castiel, you are such a strong believer in fate” Dean leant over the table to get closer to him “perhaps it is fate that brought the two of us here tonight?”

 

The ghost of Dean’s breath on his cheek made Castiel shiver.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you so much for continuing to read this fic. I clearly have lots of time on my hands these days because I have another chapter for you already! 
> 
> It seems that these story is nearing the end so I hope you all enjoy the rest of it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The plot is loosely based on 'The Ingredients of Love' by Nicolas Barreau, these are his ideas and belong to him. The characters in the story belong to the writers and creator of Supernatural so sadly I don't own them either.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

Dean was sitting next to Sam waiting for Gabriel to arrive, the reading was the following evening and they had so much to cover in such a short time. He’d told his brother all about Castiel, simply unable to keep it to himself any longer. He had to tell someone, it was killing him.

 

“What’s so special about this guy, Dean?” Sam asked, genuinely curious. “To be honest, he sounds kind of strange.”

 

“He’s not just any guy, Sam. He’s _the_ guy.” Dean remembered their dinner the previous night, they’d ended up drinking far more than they should have but Dean was thrilled to see that by the end of the night Castiel was smiling and relaxed, appearing to be enjoying himself. He’d learnt that Castiel’s birthday was in a few weeks on the sixteenth of December and vowed to remember and do something nice for the man. He owed it to him.

 

They’d tumbled into a cab when the restaurant closed and Castiel had rested his head on Dean’s shoulder the entire ride to his apartment.

 

The memory brought a small smile to Dean’s face. “Man you’ve got it bad, don’t you big bro.” Sam smirked at him

 

“Shut up gigantor” Dean said, blushing furiously. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was time, Dean was so nervous he could barely stand up without shaking. They’d coached Gabriel on everything he should and shouldn’t say that night, but his stomach was still filled with butterflies.

 

If Gabriel didn’t know how to respond to a question, all he had to do was make a joke about English people and their fancy words and look to Dean or Sam who would conveniently jump in with the answer.

 

Even Ellen was charmed by the man, a few compliments and a wink from Gabriel had her eating out of the palm of his hand, so Dean didn’t have to worry about her being on his back the whole night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The reading was going brilliantly, Gabriel handled the questions with ease, charming the audience with his humour and wit. One more question to go and then it was autographs and photos. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, the hardest part was over.

 

“Excuse me Mr Ackles? I was just wondering if it was true that you fell in love with the Englishman in your novel” Dean’s head snapped up at the unmistakable voice and felt all the blood drain from his face.

 

Castiel.

 

_Shit shit shit!_ He thought. Castiel wasn’t even supposed to know about the reading, let alone be here asking questions.

 

He was so screwed; he and Sam hadn’t briefed Gabriel on the Castiel situation, he hadn’t thought it would be an issue!

 

“Erm… well they are all so handsome here. It was hard to resist the temptation” Gabriel stammered awkwardly.

 

Before he could continue to talk and perhaps makes things worse, Dean jumped in. “Right! Time for some autographs and photos now, Mr Ackles if you wouldn’t mind.”

 

“Mayday! Mayday!” He hissed at Sam who looked at him, bewildered. “What? It’s going well! Gabe is great!”

 

“He’s here, Sam. Cas is here! We _cannot_ let me talk to Gabriel. There’s no way that will end well.”  Sam’s eyes widened in understanding, he nodded his agreement.

 

 

Dean watched Castiel at the end of the line of people waiting to get an autograph, when he reached the front; Dean tried to wrap things up. “Alright, well I think we’d best get Mr Ackles out of here now we have another venue to get to. It’s been a long day for him. So thanks everyone for coming tonight!”

 

“Wait, Dean. There’s just one more person. It won’t take long!” Gabriel, oblivious to his distress continued to greet Castiel.

 

 

“What is your name sir?” Gabriel asked, polite as ever.

 

“Castiel Novak.” Dean could see Castiel waiting for a sign of recognition by the author but there was nothing.

 

“Right, I will write,  Dear Castiel, pleasure to meet you. Best wishes, Jensen Ackles.” Gabriel handed the novel back to Castiel.

 

“I received your letter the other day Mr Ackles” Castiel ducked his head shyly, “I was pleased that you managed to reply to me. It was all a terrible mix-up with the letters but it all worked out in the end.”

 

Gabriel was getting more and more flustered, obviously completely unaware about anything he was talking about. “Well… I was just really glad to… glad that I… It was…” Gabriel shot Dean a look of pure desperation.

 

Sam leaned down to Gabriel “Mr Ackles, sorry but we really should be leaving now.”

 

“Yes!” Dean jumped in “we are already running late for our next engagement!”

 

Dean finally worked up the courage to look Castiel in the eye and was met with cold, blue eyes. “Oh, Dean.” He said, disinterested. As if he’d only just seen Dean standing there “so nice of you to tell me about the reading tonight.” His gaze narrowed.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I agree, his behaviour was quite strange. But perhaps he didn’t want to be too obvious in front of all those people?” Anna suggested.

 

“But he acted as though he didn’t know who I was, when he clearly does!” Castiel wasn’t about to let slip to Anna that he’d sent a picture of himself with his letter to Jensen Ackles.

 

It was Anna who had told him about the reading Jensen Ackles was doing, she was in a bookstore when she had seen a poster on the notice board and sent Castiel a message, asking if he was going.

 

When he’d arrived, he’d been pleasantly surprised to see that the reading was being held at Bobby’s bookstore where he had bought Jensen Ackles’ book from. Back where it had all started.

 

“Maybe he was just embarrassed?” He suggested “Or shy. Maybe he wasn’t expecting to see me there and was simply surprised.”

 

Anna nodded her agreement, “that’s probably it. Once he meets you a few more times, he may get more comfortable.”

 

“It was strange though,” Castiel mused. “Dean seemed almost guilty that I was there. We were together only a few nights ago and he never said anything. He knew how important it was to me.”

 

It was all too strange. Castiel chose to focus on the memories of seeing Jensen Ackles in the flesh instead.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Ok I have a new plan” Dean announced to his brother the next morning, “You have to get Gabriel to call Castiel, pretending to be Jensen Ackles”

 

“What? No!” Sam exclaimed, “Dean, you can’t keep lying to the man. It’s just going to make things worse!”

 

“No, this will fix things” Dean was sure.

 

He explained the plan to his brother. Gabriel would call Castiel, apologizing for his odd behaviour and saying he was so overcome by seeing Castiel in person that words failed him, and by the time he'd gathered himself it was too late. Castiel would love that. Then he would ask to have dinner at his café, on the sixteenth of December, Castiel’s birthday and coincidentally the only night of the week the café would be closed. Meaning, the two of them would have a romantic dinner on their own. 

 

“Make sure that he tells Castiel to keep the dinner to a secret. Tell him especially _not_ to tell me because I might interfere. That way it will be less suspicious” Dean ignored the incredulous look on his brother’s face.

 

“Then, when Jensen Ackles’ agent a.k.a. you, calls to cancel on his behalf, he will be so fed up with Ackles that he will give up on him and I will swoop in and be the one he turns to for comfort.” Dean finished.

 

“You do realise this sounds like the plot to a terrible Lifetime movie, and that these things never work out in real life, right Dean?”

 

Dean chose to ignore his little brother.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Castiel was bustling around the small kitchen of the café, checking the ovens and the array of food in various stages of preparation in the kitchen, making sure everything was perfect. He’d set the table for two with his finest cutlery and put a CD with some soft, French music on in the background.

 

He took a sip of wine, and then a sip more. For nerves, he told himself.

He’d worn a brand new shirt that Anna had given him for his birthday that morning; it was made of expensive silk and according to Anna brought out the colour of his eyes.

 

Everything had to be perfect tonight, Jensen Ackles sounded so sincere on the phone and Castiel couldn’t help thinking that tonight may be the beginning of his happily ever after.

 

A knock on the door brought him back to the present. There stood… a giant bouquet of roses. But to his surprise, the man who stood behind them was not Jensen Ackles. It was Dean.

 

“Heya Cas” Dean said with a wide grin.

 

“Dean! What are you doing here? The restaurant is closed tonight.” Castiel told him, still trying to figure out what the other man was doing there.

 

“It’s December sixteenth! You’re birthday. I figured I’d made you pretty mad the other night by not mentioning the reading by Jensen Ackles, but honestly Cas… Can I call you Cas?” He continued when Castiel nodded. “I completely forgot to even mention it. So this is my making it up to you.”  He smiled shyly.

 

Castiel couldn’t deny he was touched by the gesture but he wanted Dean to leave before Jensen arrived.  “Thank you Dean. These are lovely. I didn’t even think you’d remember my birthday was today.”

 

“Cas, I remember everything important about you” Dean replied softly, ducking his head shyly.

 

“That was so sweet of you Dean, but I’m sorry… I’m actually going to be busy in a moment” he gestured at the candlelit table.

 

“Oh crap! Sorry Cas. You’re _expecting_ someone! I gotcha. Wow popular man! Watch out Ackles, you’ve got competition!”

 

Cas felt himself turning red at Dean’s words.  "A quick toast to your birthday before I get out of your hair?” Dean asked. Unable to say no; after all he was about to kick the man out right after he'd brought him flowers, Castiel poured them each some wine.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They were draining their glasses when the phone rang. “Probably someone booking in, it will go to message bank” Castiel explained in answer to Dean’s questioning gaze.

 

“Uh Castiel, It’s Sam… er... Sam Wesson. Jensen Ackles’ agent. Look I hate to be the one to tell you this but he had an unexpected visit from an ex of his tonight. It… well it looks like things are going to work out for the two of them so I’m afraid he won’t make it tonight. Sorry.”

 

_Beeeeeep_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Dean felt so terrible watching Castiel fall to pieces in front of him. It was obvious the other man was trying to hide himself from Dean, turning his back to him. But Dean could see the other man’s shoulders shaking as he cried.

 

All he wanted to do was comfort the other man, but this was all his fault. He didn't know what to say to the other man. Finally he decided to play dumb to get Cas to talk.

 

“You were meeting Ackles? Oh goodness, Cas I’m so sorry. That’s just terrible. You deserve so much better than him.” Dean meant every word. Castiel was such a good man and Dean… Well obviously Dean wasn’t.

 

Castiel turned to him, gripping his glass so tightly Dean was afraid it was going to shatter in his hand. “He… He said such wonderful things on the phone. He wanted to see me.” Castiel’s voice broke and he started to sob.

“Shhh” Dean soothed, putting his arms around the other man and holding him to his chest.  He held the other man until his sobs started to subside.

 

Gently he pulled the other man off his chest and held him at arms length, looking him in the eye. “You know what Cas? Forget Ackles, he’s a dick for not realising how wonderful you are. You must have spent all afternoon cooking all that food and it smells wonderful. I won’t let him ruin your birthday. “

 

He poured them both more wine and sat down at the table. Castiel gave him a watery smile “I’m very glad you are here, Dean.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After dinner and far more wine than Castiel had been planning to drink, he went to the kitchen to grab desert. He closed the fridge door and found himself pressed up against Dean’s chest.

 

“Dance with me” Dean whispered.

Castiel nodded, not trusting his voice and wrapped his arms around Dean, swaying gently to the music.

 

They stayed that way for almost four songs, Dean holding Castiel close, and Castiel resting his head on Dean’s shoulder, eyes shut.

 

The music stopped and Castiel lifted his head to find Dean staring down at him, something unidentifiable in his eyes. Then the other man leant down and captured Castiel’s lips with his own in a soft, chaste kiss.

 

When their lips parted, Castiel moved closer and pressed them together once more, deepening the kiss and coaxing a low moan from the back of Dean’s throat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Their clothing ended up on the floor of Castiel’s bedroom as they stumbled their way towards the bed, constantly kissing and touching. Neither one willing to stop touching the other long enough for them to undress.

 

At last they were free of the clothing that was restricting them. Castiel stood, blushing under Dean’s gaze that raked over his body from head to toe. “Beautiful” Dean breathed almost reverently, “I knew you’d be perfect.”

 

Dean gently pulled him down on top of him, Castiel groaning at the feel of their bodies fitting together like they were made for each other. “Dean” Castiel panted, “I want… I want to feel you in me.”

 

“Fuck, Cas” Dean swore, his breath catching “where do you keep…”

 

“Top draw, hurry Dean” Castiel almost whined, he was so hard and he needed Dean to do something before he went crazy.

 

“Shh baby, I gotcha” Castiel wanted to scoff at the pet name but his brain lost all ability to function when Dean’s finger found that spot inside him that made him cry out.

 

By the third finger, Castiel was shaking “Dean, now. I need you, right now” He panted.

 

Dean slid into him, inch by inch until Castiel was begging him to move, he was so full. So full of Dean and it was perfect.

 

It was over far too quickly, Castiel coming apart in Dean’s hand with a few short strokes, screaming Dean’s name so loudly he thought he’d probably scarred old Mrs Watson across the hall.

 

“Cas” Dean moaned, coming apart only a few moments after Castiel.

 

Castiel’s last thought before sleep took him, was that Dean Winchester was the right Mr Wrong.

 

 

 

They slept tangled together all night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Castiel woke pressed up against Dean’s chest, strong arms around him. He felt warm, and safe. Something he never felt, even with Balthazar.

 

Dean kissed the top of his head and murmured something about a shower before getting up and heading into the bathroom.

 

Castiel lay in bed for a little longer, basking in the feeling of safety that Dean gave him. Eventually he got up, planning to make them a big breakfast.

 

He saw Dean’s jacket lying on the floor where they’d tossed it last night while they were hastily ripping each other’s clothes off, smiling happily at the memory, he picked it up and put it on the bed.  Dean’s wallet fell out of the pocket, scattering coins and receipts on the floor.

 

Bending down to pick them up, one in particular caught his eye, he turned it over to see his own, creased face smiling back at him.

 

Why on Earth did Dean have the picture of himself that he sent to Jensen Ackles in his _very_ personal letter?

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This is the second last chapter of this story! I actually can't believe it has gotten so long, but here we are. I hope you enjoy this chapter :) Feel free to leave any thoughts or feelings that you may have about the chapter in the comments section, i'd love to hear what you guys have thought of the story so far.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: The plot is loosely based on 'The Ingredients of Love' by Nicolas Barreau, these are his ideas and belong to him. The characters in the story belong to the writers and creator of Supernatural so sadly I don't own them either.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

 

Castiel stared blankly at the photograph of himself for a good few minutes before thoughts flooded his head. He’d put that photo in his letter to Jensen Ackles, but it was in _Dean’s_ wallet.

 

Dean, who had tried to brush him off during their first phone conversation and then again in the foyer of his office. Dean, who had told him that Jensen Ackles had mixed up his letters and lost Castiel’s address. Dean, who had sat in the restaurant all night and knew Jensen Ackles wouldn’t turn up.  Dean, who had failed to mention the reading to him, the only time Jensen Ackles had really been in London, and then couldn’t drag the author away from him fast enough. Dean, who had showed up at precisely the right time, holding a huge bouquet of roses when Jensen Ackles’ agent cancelled their date.

 

If it even was Ackles’ agent. Who knows who Dean had convinced to call him.

 

And the letter from Jensen Ackles. How could the author have replied to him when he never received Castiel’s letter in the first place? The letter clearly never left Dean’s hands.

 

Suddenly, Castiel remembered something. Something that had struck him as odd when he’d first seen it, but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on why.

 

He dropped the photo and grabbed his copy of _In His Eyes._ The handwritten letter from Jensen Ackles was tucked inside. With trembling hands, he unfolded the pages. ‘Thank you for reading, Jensen Ackles’ he whispered, reading the author’s closing words to himself.

 

Hastily he opened the cover of the book where the author himself had signed it. _Best wishes, Jensen Ackles._

 

Jensen Ackles had signed his name twice, but the signature on the letter was completely different to the one in the book. The one he’d seen the _real_ Jensen Ackles sign right in front of him.

 

He grabbed the birthday card Dean had given to him the night before and groaned. He’d been so blind! The handwriting was identical to the fake letter from Jensen Ackles.

 

Dean had been deceiving him all along.

 

In a daze he sat down on the bed. He remembered the look in Dean’s eyes last night as he’d whispered “I’m so sorry, Cas” and was filled with rage.

 

Dean had taken advantage of his trusting nature and used it against him. He’d exploited him and played games with him just to get Castiel into bed with him. Castiel hated him for it. Hated that he fell for the sick game Dean was playing with him. Hated that Dean had used him and deceived him just like Balthazar.

 

And most importantly, he hated himself for believing Dean.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel’s fists were clenched tightly and he was staring resolutely at the floor when Dean came out of the bathroom.  “So Cas, the whole day is ours. What shall we do? I vote for not leaving the bedroom except for food” Dean chuckled.

 

He noticed Castiel’s stony silence. “Cas, baby, what’s wrong? You look pale.” He looked at Castiel in confusion “are you feeling alright?” He asked.

 

“No. I’m not alright.” Castiel replied harshly.

 

“Can I do anything to help you?” Dean asked, carefully brushing his hair away from his forehead.

 

Castiel knocked his hand away. “Yes.” He said, voice low and threatening. “You can never touch me again. Or talk to me. In fact just don’t come near me ever again.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Dean cried.

 

‘What’s _wrong?_ ” Castiel growled. _“This_ is what’s wrong.” He threw the picture at Dean. “And this!” Then the letter and finally the book.

 

“Cas… oh God Cas please I can explain” Dean stammered, his face turning red.

 

“You mean you can feed me MORE pathetic lies?” Castiel was almost screaming now. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough Dean?”

 

“I’ll admit, it was all so well thought out. My compliments to you for such a well thought out game! Was it as fun for _you_ as it was for me? Because Dean I’ve just had a riot.” Castiel could feel the tears leaving wet tracks on his cheeks, but he didn’t bother to wipe them off. Let Dean see, he’d probably laugh about it with all his friends later on, the pathetic man who cried at everything and fell into his trap.

“No… Cas please. It’s not like that I promise you.” Dean begged. “I wasn’t lying about the way I feel. Last night… It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you Cas. Please believe me.” 

 

“Why should I believe anything you tell me? Nothing has been the truth. Is your name even Dean Winchester? That’s probably a lie too.” Castiel snapped at him.

 

“That isn’t the way you treat someone you love. You don’t lie to them and humiliate them. “ He was livid, he couldn’t stop talking now if he tried.

 

“All this because you never wanted me to meet Jensen Ackles! You could have just said something at the beginning and spared my feelings. But, I suppose that wouldn’t be as fun for you. Instead you got to watch poor, pathetic Cas fall deeper and deeper into your twisted games.” He spat his words at Dean.

 

“Get your clothes and get out of my apartment. Don’t contact me again.”

 

Dean moved to stand in front of Castiel, effectively blocking the doorway. “I’m Jensen Ackles.” He said, voice flat and face void of any emotion.

 

“Just how dumb do you think I am? _You’re_ Jensen Ackles? Bullshit!” Castiel laughed, but even to his own ears it sounded wrong. His voice too high pitched and verging on manic.  “Every word out of your mouth just gets more and more absurd.”

 

 

He looked at Dean straight in the eye, his voice cold. “I hate you Dean Winchester.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

A tentative knock came at the door and Dean looked up to see Jo standing in the doorway. He had been sitting at his desk, head in his hands. He’d spent most of the week that way. His days were filled with endless manuscripts about true love and classic romance that made him want to bang his head repeatedly against a wall, or throw up. He wasn’t sure which.

 

His nights consisted of too much alcohol and not enough sleep. 

 

He’d called Cas multiple times every day but his phone had been turned off and the landline was unplugged. He’d emailed him three times but stopped when he received a message telling him to stop because Castiel was deleting his emails without reading them and would continue to do so if he sent more.

 

He’d been unlucky enough to speak to a terrifying sounding man called Crowley when he’d called the café, and he was warned that if he didn’t stop bothering Castiel, he’d receive a visit from Crowley himself.

 

He was officially at rock bottom. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Cas and the pure hatred in his eyes, heard him say “I hate you Dean Winchester” as clearly as if Castiel was standing in the room with him, repeating it over and over.

 

“Dean?”

 

He raised his head wearily. “Yes Jo?”

 

“What’s going on? You’re clearly not ok and I think you need someone to talk to.”   She sat down on the other side of his desk, clearly expecting him to talk. He knew he wasn’t going to get away without talking to her. He knew the look on her face and, essentially, he was screwed.

 

“I fucked up, Jo. I made the biggest mistake of my life and now I don’t know how to begin fixing it. I think… I think this is what it feels like when your heart breaks.” He almost broke down again but he pulled himself together at the last moment, determined for her not to see him at his lowest.

 

“Oh Dean” she said, standing up to wrap her arms around him. “When you realise you’ve made a mistake, the best thing you can do is make things right as quickly as possible.”

 

With those last words of wisdom, she left him alone to continue wallowing in his misery.

 

He knew he had to fix the problem, he just didn’t know _how_ to fix it.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Later on that afternoon, Ellen wandered into his office. “So I heard you won’t be joining us at the Christmas party this year” were the first words out of her mouth. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the serious heartbreak my daughter was telling me all about, would it?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes, damn Jo and her big mouth.

 

Her gaze softened as she took in his dishevelled clothes and obvious lack of sleep. “Honey, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

 

“Yeah I know, but if I told you the whole story, I’d lose my job.” He almost laughed at how much he really didn’t care about his job anymore. He didn’t care about anything without Cas.

 

“Dear God boy, what have you done that’s so bad? Groped my daughter? That _would_ get you fired. Stolen money from the company?” She threw her head back and laughed.

 

Lies were what got Dean into this mess. Looking at Ellen’s warm face, he decided to come clean.

 

“It’s about Jensen Ackles” he began, and then stopped. “Promise me you won’t fly off the handle when I tell you the whole story?”

 

She nodded impatiently “yes, yes now tell me.”

 

Once he’d started talking, the whole story came tumbling out. By the time he’d finished talking the last rays of sun had almost disappeared.

 

The bad thing about telling Ellen, was that she was known for being a force of nature when she was angry.

 

“That’s monstrous! Dean, I trusted you and you lied! You went behind my back and made me look a fool!” Clearly her promise to stay calm had meant nothing. “You’re fired!” She yelled.

 

However, she was also known for having a good sense of humour and a temper that cooled just as quickly as it flared.

 

“Unbelievable” she muttered. “It takes a lot of nerve to pull something like that off, I can’t believe you had us all fooled. I didn’t know you could write like that! Dean, you _do_ write well.”

 

“Oh” she seemed to remember telling him that he was fired. “You’re still employed here. But as punishment you will be joining us at the Christmas party.” She winked at him, still shaking her head in disbelief. “All this time” she mumbled under her breath.

 

  
“But Ellen, what about Cas?” Dean reminded her. “He still hates me and I don’t know what to do.” He was so desperate for a way to make it up to the man he loved. He’d do anything at this point.

 

  
“It's not over yet, Dean. Trust me, what you need to think about now is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. The exact opposite of what got you into this mess in the beginning.” She smiled at him.

 

“Take my advice and write the entire story down exactly the way it happened, from the moment you first saw Castiel, to our conversation we are having right now. Write it honestly and when you are finished, give Castiel the manuscript and tell him that his favourite author has written another book and that it is important that he is the first to read it.”

 

Dean had to admit, it sounded just like something Cas would appreciate.

 

“Dean,” He looked back up at Ellen, “write from your heart and win the heart of the man you are writing about.”

 

With one last wink she left him, his mind buzzing with renewed hope.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: The plot is loosely based on 'The Ingredients of Love' by Nicolas Barreau, these are his ideas and belong to him. The characters in the story belong to the writers and creator of Supernatural so sadly I don't own them either.

* * *

_There are writers who spend hours, even days working on the first sentence of their novels. The very first thing a person will read that may influence how they approach the rest of the book. The very first sentence must feel right, must be the most well crafted part of the novel. It is believed, that after the first sentence is perfected, everything else will follow automatically. Some people like to think that the first sentence is something akin to the first glance between two strangers, their very first impression and the longest lasting one._

_Others, say they cannot begin to write a novel without knowing exactly how it will end. What the very last sentence will be. A certainty, an ending that is set in stone that dictates the way the entire story will play out.  Many authors, for this reason, choose to plan their novels starting at the end and working forward before they begin to write._

_I, on the other hand, am writing this story with no ending in mind. In fact, I don’t have any idea how the story will play out in the end. I have no way of influencing the end of the story._

_The truth is, this is a story that has not yet finished. There will be no ending written by me, for the ending of this story must be written by another. It all depends on a man. A man I saw one evening, almost two years ago now.  It was a hard time in my life but it all changed when I saw him through the window of a small café with red and white chequered table clothes in London.  It’s the man I love._

_I didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with a smile, but seeing that man smile at his customers that evening, enchanted me. His smile captured my mind and my heart. I stole it. I stole his smile and carried it around in my heart, letting it inspire me and guide me._

_That smile motivated me to write a novel, a novel in which everything was invented. It was fake; but at the same time it was more real than anything I’d written before._

_And then the unbelievable happened. The man with the smile that had changed my life, was standing before my very eyes. It was wonderful, yet so very sad. For the man wanted something from me that I could not give._

_He had one wish, something he was so obsessed with.  And I wanted so badly to be the one to give it to him.  It was that one wish that was impossible for me to grant. And yet, was it?_

_So much has happened since then, so much good, so much love and so much disappointment and heartbreak._

_I want to write them all down. Everything from start to finish. The complete truth after far too many lies._

_This is the story the way it really happened. I’m writing it like a man who may not live to see another sunrise, as a lover who gave his heart to the one person in the world who can actually break it._

_I’m writing this story, in the hopes that it will get an ending._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

After his conversation with Ellen, Dean had spent the following three days perfecting these first few sentences. After that, it had been almost impossible to stop. He was writing for his life, for his future.

 

He wrote about the phone call with his brother that had started it all, the meeting in the publishing office, the letters and conversations between Castiel and the American author.

 

He wrote with an urgency that he’d never felt before, a desire to come clean with everything he’d lied about. He refused to leave out any details, determined for Castiel to know the complete truth.

 

 

Christmas had come and gone and he’d barely noticed. Each day was spend the same, in front of his laptop drinking copious amounts of coffee and smoking more than he’d care to admit.  He didn’t watch TV, he unplugged the phone and ignored the doorbell if it happened to ring.  He was living in complete isolation, becoming the recluse that Jensen Ackles was rumoured to be. If anything drastic had happened in the world, he wouldn’t have a clue. All he knew was he had to write.

 

He couldn’t even remember if he’d eaten in the past three days. Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten at all. He wasn’t hungry, so he supposed it wasn’t too important.

 

Ellen had given him leave until January for a “special assignment” and for that he was extremely grateful. He’d be no use to them until he’d finished writing. And even then, depending on how Castiel responded to his apology, he might not ever go back to work there.

 

 

He couldn’t tell you what day or even what time it was, the weeks all blurred together. Every day the same. He didn’t think any book had ever been written this fast, his desire to win back Cas and his longing for the day he presented him the manuscript, was driving him to write and not stop.

 

In the final days of January, he had finished.

 

The night he went to leave the manuscript at Castiel’s door, it was beginning to snow. He left the carefully wrapper package and the doorstep and wandered the streets of London, marvelling at the soft flakes of snow that were drifting down around him. The first snowflakes were always the most beautiful.  Such bright white contrasting so flawlessly with the dark night sky.

 

He was like a blind man who was seeing for the first time. Such a long time cooped up inside, and now with the faintest glimmer of hope in his heart, he was waiting. Appreciating the world once more, but still waiting for the one thing that could make his world whole.

 

He’d struggled for hours with the title; tossing names back and forwards, trying to find the one that felt completely right.  In the end, he had deleted the entire list of potential titles and wrote instead _The End of the Story._

 

That was it, in its plainest, barest form. The entire point of the story was to determine the ending. No matter how wonderful the beginning or what fascinating twists and turns the story may take, the ending is what people care about. The ending is what is important.

 

There is a certain thrill and fascination with a novel that has a tragic or open ending, they are remembered for much longer than a novel with a perfect happy ending. They give the reader something to think about, a character or story to mourn and constant questions that leave them begging for answers.

 

But in some cases, reality must differ to literature. More often than not, novels have a fairytale ending, an escape from a reality where the ending to a person’s story might not be the happily ever after they’d hoped for.

 

Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t send up a quick prayer to whoever may be listening, for his story to end happily.

 

He’d included a letter with the manuscript, in which he wrote:

 

_Dear Castiel,_

_I know you have no desire to hear from me and wish to never see me again, I want you to know that respect your wishes._

_However, this is something I know you should have. It is the latest novel from your favourite author; it is brand new and unedited. It does not have a complete ending, but I know it will interest you because it contains the answers to your questions about Jensen Ackles’ first novel._

_I hope that this will make up for some of the things I have done to hurt you._

_Yours,_

_Dean._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It was still snowing when Dean made his way to the office the following morning, a copy of the manuscript tucked under his jacket for Ellen.  The snow was piled high on roofs and cars, making the roads icy and slippery. People were walking slowly on the sidewalks, trying not to slip on the ice, while cars slowed their pace on the dangerous roads.

 

In a way, it felt like the world was slowing, holding its breath. For some strange reason, it filled Dean with a strong calmness.

 

* * *

 

 

“You” Ellen smiled “look like absolute crap.”

 

“And yet, you’re still smiling.” Dean smiled back at her. “I’m guessing it’s a good thing that I look like this.”

 

“You, dear boy, look like a man who’s just finished a novel.” She grinned, her eyes landing on the manuscript Dean was placing on her desk.

 

“I’m not sure if it’s any good. But it’s my heart and soul’s work” Dean told her.

 

“That’s always the best work” she said. “I’ve got my fingers crossed for you, Dean.”

 

“Well… I only finished it last night so don’t expect to much” he replied hastily, suddenly worried about the standard of his work compared to the hundreds of successful authors that had been discovered by Ellen. “Anyway, I doubt anything will happen so quickly, I mean, Cas probably hasn’t even read it all yet.”

 

“You may be wrong there Dean. Anyway I’m still looking forward to reading it.” Ellen told him.

 

 

* * *

 

The day crept along; time going even slower than Dean thought was possible. He checked his email, stared out the window, then checked his email again. Finally closing his eyes and thinking of Castiel, as if his thoughts could somehow become a reality and he’d open his eyes to find the other man in front of him, head tilted slightly to the side, watching him curiously.

 

 

* * *

 

The snow had caused the days to become shorter, and it was already dark outside when Ellen called him and asked him to come to her office.

 

“Sadly” She looked at Dean solemnly, he started to get nervous. “This is incredibly good, so don’t you _dare_ think about going to another publisher with it.” She threatened, shaking her head at him.

 

“Wow, that’s great Ellen.” Dean said, honestly. “I’m so happy you liked it.”

 

“I think,” Ellen suppressed a smile, “What’s out _there_ will make you happier.” She pointed outside her window.

 

Outside on the street, a man was pacing back and forth outside the building, looking at the door as if waiting for someone.

 

Dean didn’t even think about grabbing a coat, rushing down the stairs and bursting through the door, onto the footpath.

 

Then, finally he was standing in front of him. The man he’d so desperately prayed to see once more.  He was barely able to breath.

 

“You came” he said softly, then said it again as if to make it real somehow, like he couldn’t believe it was happening.

 

Snowflakes were catching on Castiel’s dark hair and landing on his eyelashes. Dean had never seen a more perfect sight, he never wanted to stop looking at the other man.

 

Castiel smiled and reached for Dean’s hand. Dean could feel his heart warming the moment he saw that familiar smile. He felt so much lighter than he had felt in weeks.

 

“You know what?” Castiel asked him, eyes gleaming happiness. “Jensen Ackles’ second book was so much better than the first.”

 

Dean threw his head back and laughed, the fullest laugh since before things had gone so terribly wrong. “Is that going to be the last sentence of the story?” He asked Castiel, pulling the other man into his arms.

 

“No! Of course not!” Castiel protested.  He looked looked at Dean for such a long time that he was beginning to get nervous, looking deep into Castiel’s eyes to see if they provided an answer.

 

“God help me, Dean Winchester. I love you.” The other man said.

 

Dean was unable to speak. Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean and they stood, two men on the middle of the footpath in the snow. Wrapped up in each other, melting into a kiss that Dean hoped would never end.

 

Of course had he read this in a novel, Dean would have found the ending a little conventional and too predictable for his taste.  But there, in real life, two men on a small snowy street in the middle of a big city, it made him the happiest man in London.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story from beginning to end, you have no idea how much I love you all for reading! I did not plan for this story to end up so long, but i've had heaps of fun writing it!  
> A big thank you to my wonderful friend Kenna for reading the chapters and giving me advice and help when I needed it, and generally just listening to me complaining about my writing. THANK YOU!
> 
> For those of you who enjoyed the storyline and main plot, the book 'The Ingredients of love' is absolutely wonderful. I thoroughly recommend it to you. The writing is a lot better than mine too, so do go and read it if you get the chance.
> 
> Thank you all again so much! xoxo


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